The aroma gradually spread through the room. Sitting on the sofa flipping through a newspaper, Akai raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering in his eyes. He had been wondering what takeout to order if the food turned out bad but it looked like that wouldn't be necessary.
Now changed into casual home clothes, Ritsu walked out of the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Peeking in, he watched Irish mashing potatoes and asked curiously:
"What are you making? Potato salad?"
"In my home country, potatoes are a staple, just like rice is for Japanese people," Irish replied. "This dish is called colcannon. It's mainly potatoes and cabbage, but I saw some bacon in your fridge, so I'll add a bit for flavor."
"I see. Need a hand with anything?"
Irish didn't know Ritsu's cooking level. In his mind, if the organization's ace could kill without hesitation, chopping vegetables should be no problem.
But reality said otherwise.
The moment Ritsu picked up a kitchen knife, Akai, who had been lazing on the sofa, immediately sat up. With a serious expression, he strode over like someone catching a mischievous kid playing with a blade.
"Did you forget what I told you last time? In the kitchen, you can look and talk but don't touch anything. Not even washing vegetables."
"…Then you do it."
Akai took the knife and began handling the ingredients with practiced ease. It couldn't be helped, he couldn't let Rei handle everything alone, so whenever they cooked, he usually took care of basic prep like washing and cutting.
Watching Ritsu sulk off to the living room to watch TV, Irish asked in confusion, "He can't even cut vegetables properly?"
"If you want one dish to contain potato slices, strips, cubes, and chunks all at once, then sure, call him back to help."
Irish twitched at the corner of his mouth. It was hard to imagine how this guy had survived to adulthood. He'd assumed everyone could at least manage something simple, like frying an egg.
...
In less than an hour, a simple three-dish meal with soup was served on the table. The portions were generous, no chance of going hungry.
There was Irish-style colcannon, fried meatballs, ham-and-cheese pancakes, and borscht. Every dish tasted excellent. Some of the pancakes weren't paired with ham and cheese but instead drizzled with maple syrup as a dessert.
The fried meatballs quickly became Ritsu's favorite. With one bite, the crispy outer layer gave way to juices bursting out, mixed with molten, pale-yellow cheese.
The filling wasn't just beef, it also included chopped parsley and mashed onion, adding depth to the texture. The seasoning seemed to include black vinegar, something uncommon in Japanese cuisine. The saltiness was just right, complemented by a light buttery aroma.
They were delicious on their own, but dipping them in yellow mustard made the flavor pop even more. Ritsu couldn't stop eating. One after another, stuffing them into his mouth until his cheeks puffed up like a hamster.
Irish found genuine enjoyment in seeing others appreciate the food he had carefully prepared. Perhaps it was because of his upbringing. Deep down, he lacked affection. The sense of belonging he found in the organization came from earning his foster father's approval and even receiving payment, things he had never experienced in the orphanage.
"Try the colcannon, it's refreshing and cuts through the grease."
"Yeah, it's really good."
"Your praise is an honor." Irish lifted his wine glass, gently swirling the pale golden liquid inside. "Cheers."
"Cheers."
Seeing Irish down his drink in one go, a certain adult who still hadn't built up much alcohol tolerance tried to imitate him. Akai immediately pressed down on his rising hand.
"Know your limits. Drink slowly."
"I'm not a one-glass lightweight anymore, okay?" Ritsu rolled his eyes, inwardly muttering, 'Like you're any better, your face looks like you can drink way more than you actually can.'
Irish watched the two of them with a hint of envy. In the organization, the only person he was close to was his foster father. During missions in Europe, he mostly worked with lower-level operatives.
Not having friends around his age… was a lonely thing. But as a member of the organization, was that kind of connection even necessary?
Maybe not.
Yet watching the interaction between the two in front of him stirred a strange sense of envy.
"You two seem close. How long have you known each other?"
They exchanged a glance.
Ritsu poked at the maple pancakes on his plate with a fork. Thinking back to that accident two years ago, in less than three months, it would be three years since he met Akai.
Time really flies.
Had it already been nearly five years since he joined the organization?
Living every day on guard, worrying even in his sleep about his undercover identity being exposed… and yet five years had passed just like that?
"Almost three years," Ritsu said. Then, considering their conflicting positions, a trace of complaint crept into his tone. "We're not that close."
"Yeah. Just coworkers," Akai added.
He had no intention of forming a friendship with Ritsu, who had already become one of Gin's right-hand men. Reaching into his pocket, he flicked out a cigarette and asked,
"You mind if I smoke?"
"Go ahead. These days, who isn't breathing secondhand smoke anyway?" Irish poured himself another glass of wine. Being used to unfamiliar circles had made him naturally outgoing. "It's a shame you're not part of tomorrow's mission, Rye."
"Mission?"
"Ah, right, you weren't informed. Macallan and I are heading overseas tomorrow. Kir and Chianti will be joining us."
'An operations agent active in Europe, the organization's top-performing ace, a rising star in intelligence, and a decisive sniper…'
'Quite the deluxe lineup. The question was, who was it meant to take down?'
"Does Bourbon know?" Akai asked.
Ritsu, putting on a front of unfamiliarity, took a calm sip of his drink. "Is there any need to tell him?"
Akai didn't respond. After finishing his meal, he stood up and said he was heading to the balcony for his third cigarette of the day.
It wasn't that his attempt to cut down had failed, the FBI had already begun planning an operation to capture Gin.
Leaning against the railing, he gazed out at the night skyline. Summer had long passed, yet the sound of cicadas still lingered.
'I'll be leaving this place soon...'
'Why does that bother me?'
Had that guy been right? Had he really started developing… something unusual within the organization?
Like that feeling he refused to acknowledge.
It was supposed to be just exploitation so why had he gotten himself involved?
'…That's not like me.'
His gaze drifted back to Ritsu, who was diligently washing the dishes. By this time next year, they would stand on completely opposing sides.
And strangely enough, there was a hint of anticipation.
Akai admitted it, he respected strength. In his eyes, only Gin and Ritsu were worthy of being his rivals.
When that time came… They would settle it.